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The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems by Morris, William, 1834-1896
The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems by Morris, William, 1834-1896
DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE
BY
WILLIAM MORRIS
Reprinted from the Kelmscott Press Edition
as revised by the Author
[Pg vii]
CONTENTS
PAGE
The Defence of Guenevere 1
King Arthur's Tomb 19
Sir Galahad, a Christmas Mystery 43
The Chapel in Lyoness 57
Sir Peter Harpdon's End 65
Rapunzel 111
Concerning Geffray Teste Noire 135
A Good Knight in Prison 148
Old Love 155
The Gilliflower of Gold 159
Shameful Death 163
[Pg 1]
CONTENTS 2
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
'One of these cloths is heaven, and one is hell,
Now choose one cloth for ever; which they be,
I will not tell you, you must somehow tell
Of your own strength and mightiness; here, see!'
Yea, yea, my lord, and you to ope your eyes,
At foot of your familiar bed to see
[Pg 3]
A great God's angel standing, with such dyes,
Not known on earth, on his great wings, and hands,
Held out two ways, light from the inner skies
Showing him well, and making his commands
Seem to be God's commands, moreover, too,
Holding within his hands the cloths on wands;
And one of these strange choosing cloths was blue,
Wavy and long, and one cut short and red;
No man could tell the better of the two.
After a shivering half-hour you said:
'God help! heaven's colour, the blue;' and he said, 'hell.'
Perhaps you then would roll upon your bed,
And cry to all good men that loved you well,
'Ah Christ! if only I had known, known, known;'
Launcelot went away, then I could tell,
Like wisest man how all things would be, moan,
And roll and hurt myself, and long to die,
And yet fear much to die for what was sown.
[Pg 4]
Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
Whatever may have happened through these years,
God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.
Her voice was low at first, being full of tears,
But as it cleared, it grew full loud and shrill,
Growing a windy shriek in all men's ears,
A ringing in their startled brains, until
She said that Gauwaine lied, then her voice sunk,
And her great eyes began again to fill,
Though still she stood right up, and never shrunk,
But spoke on bravely, glorious lady fair!
Whatever tears her full lips may have drunk,
She stood, and seemed to think, and wrung her hair,
Spoke out at last with no more trace of shame,
With passionate twisting of her body there:
It chanced upon a day that Launcelot came
To dwell at Arthur's court: at Christmas-time
This happened; when the heralds sung his name,
[Pg 5]
Son of King Ban of Benwick, seemed to chime
Along with all the bells that rang that day,
O'er the white roofs, with little change of rhyme.
Christmas and whitened winter passed away,
And over me the April sunshine came,
Made very awful with black hail-clouds, yea
[Pg 19]
[Pg 21]
[Pg 43]
[Pg 45]
An Angel
Galahad,
That I may stand so close beneath your brow,
I, Margaret of Antioch, am glad.
Second Lady, girding him with the sword.
O gentle knight,
[Pg 55] That you bow down to us in reverence,
We are most glad, I, Katherine, with delight
Must needs fall trembling.
Angel, putting on the crossed surcoat.
Galahad, we go hence,
For here, amid the straying of the snow,
Come Percival's sister, Bors, and Percival.
[The Four Ladies carry out the bed, and all go but Galahad.
Galahad.
[Pg 57]
[Pg 59]
Sir Ozana.
[Pg 65]
[Pg 67]
John Curzon.
So:
What are their names?
[Pg 68]
John Curzon.
Why, sir, I
Will fight till the last moment, until then
Will do whate'er you tell me. Now I see
We must e'en leave the walls; well, well, perhaps
They're stronger than I think for; pity, though!
For some few tons of stone, if Guesclin comes.
Sir Peter.
[Goes.
Truly, sir, I will watch well.
Sir Peter.
Outside,
I'll talk with him, close by the gate St. Ives.
[They go.
Fit to hide axes up. So, let us go.
[Pg 78]
Outside the castle by the great gate; Sir Lambert and Sir Peter seated; guards attending each, the rest of Sir
Lambert's men drawn up about a furlong off.
Sir Peter.
O! no hurt to me;
I see you sneering, Why take trouble then,
Seeing you love me not? Look you, our house
(Which, taken altogether, I love much)
Had better be upon the right side now,
If, once for all, it wishes to bear rule
As such a house should: cousin, you're too wise
To feed your hope up fat, that this fair France
Will ever draw two ways again; this side
The French, wrong-headed, all a-jar
With envious longings; and the other side
The order'd English, orderly led on
[Aside.
O! I am well off.
Talk, and talk, and talk,
I know this man has come to murder me,
And yet I talk still.
Sir Lambert.
Furthermore, my knight,
Men call you slippery on your losing side,
When at Bordeaux I was ambassador,
[Pg 82] I heard them say so, and could scarce say: Nay.
[He takes hold of something in
his sleeve, and rises.
Sir Peter, rising.
They lied: and you lie, not for the first time.
What have you got there, fumbling up your sleeve,
A stolen purse?
Sir Lambert.
John Curzon.
[He goes.
I will, fair sir.
Sir Peter.
[To Lambert.
Hold, John!
That's your choice,
To die, mind! Then you shall die: Lambert mine,
[Pg 86] I thank you now for choosing this so well,
It saves me much perplexity and doubt;
Perchance an ill deed too, for half I count
This sparing traitors is an ill deed.
Well,
Lambert, die bravely, and we're almost friends.
Sir Lambert, grovelling.
Sir Peter.
O! my lord,
I cannot say this is as good as life,
[Pg 95] But yet it makes me feel far happier now,
And if at all, after a thousand years,
I see God's face, I will speak loud and bold,
And tell Him you were kind, and like Himself;
Sir, may God bless you!
Did you note how I
Fell weeping just now? pray you, do not think
That Lambert's taunts did this, I hardly heard
The base things that he said, being deep in thought
Of all things that have happen'd since I was
A little child; and so at last I thought
Of my true lady: truly, sir, it seem'd
No longer gone than yesterday, that this
Was the sole reason God let me be born
Twenty-five years ago, that I might love
Her, my sweet lady, and be loved by her;
This seem'd so yesterday, to-day death comes,
And is so bitter strong, I cannot see
Why I was born.
But as a last request,
What base-court?
What do you talk of? Nay, go on, go on;
'Twas only something gone within my head:
Do you not know, one turns one's head round quick,
And something cracks there with sore pain? go on,
And still look at my eyes.
Squire.
Almost alone,
There in the base-court fought he with his sword,
Using his left hand much, more than the wont
Of most knights now-a-days; our men gave back,
[Pg 111]
RAPUNZEL
[Pg 113]
RAPUNZEL
The Prince, being in the wood near the tower, in the evening.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair!
Rapunzel.
RAPUNZEL 44
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
And left me there alone,
To think on what they said:
'Thou art a king's own son,
'Tis fit that thou should'st wed.'
The Witch.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair!
Rapunzel.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair!
[Pg 115]
Rapunzel.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Wind up your hair!
Rapunzel.
RAPUNZEL 45
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Weep through your hair!
Rapunzel.
RAPUNZEL 46
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Of the Norse torches burning up the roofs,
On the flower-carven marble could I see;
But rather on all sides I saw the proofs
Of a great loneliness that sicken'd me;
Making me feel a doubt that was not fear,
Whether my whole life long had been a dream,
And I should wake up soon in some place, where
The piled-up arms of the fighting angels gleam;
Not born as yet, but going to be born,
No naked baby as I was at first,
But an armed knight, whom fire, hate and scorn
Could turn from nothing: my heart almost burst
Beneath the beeches, as I lay a-dreaming,
I tried so hard to read this riddle through,
To catch some golden cord that I saw gleaming
Like gossamer against the autumn blue.
[Pg 120]
But while I ponder'd these things, from the wood
There came a black-hair'd woman, tall and bold,
Who strode straight up to where the tower stood,
And cried out shrilly words, whereon behold—
The Witch, from the tower.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair!
The Prince.
RAPUNZEL 47
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
RAPUNZEL 48
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Yea, besides, I have made this:
Lord, give Mary a dear kiss,
And let gold Michael, who looked down,
When I was there, on Rouen town
From the spire, bring me that kiss
On a lily! Lord do this!
These prayers on the dreadful nights,
[Pg 124] When the witches plait my hair,
And the fearfullest of sights
On the earth and in the air,
Will not let me close my eyes,
I murmur often, mix'd with sighs,
That my weak heart will not hold
At some things that I behold.
Nay, not sighs, but quiet groans,
That swell out the little bones
Of my bosom; till a trance
God sends in middle of that dance,
And I behold the countenance
Of Michael, and can feel no more
The bitter east wind biting sore
My naked feet; can see no more
The crayfish on the leaden floor,
That mock with feeler and grim claw.
Yea, often in that happy trance,
Beside the blessed countenance
Of golden Michael, on the spire
Glowing all crimson in the fire
Of sunset, I behold a face,
Which sometime, if God give me grace,
May kiss me in this very place.
[Pg 125]
Evening in the tower.
Rapunzel.
RAPUNZEL 49
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Drew my eyes down; I saw against the wall
[Pg 126]
One knight lean dead, bleeding from head and breast,
Yet seem'd it like a line of poppies red
In the golden twilight, as he took his rest,
In the dusky time he scarcely seemed dead.
But the other, on his face, six paces off,
Lay moaning, and the old familiar name
He mutter'd through the grass, seem'd like a scoff
Of some lost soul remembering his past fame.
His helm all dinted lay beside him there,
The visor-bars were twisted towards the face,
The crest, which was a lady very fair,
Wrought wonderfully, was shifted from its place.
The shower'd mail-rings on the speedwell lay,
Perhaps my eyes were dazzled with the light
That blazed in the west, yet surely on that day
Some crimson thing had changed the grass from bright
Pure green I love so. But the knight who died
Lay there for days after the other went;
Until one day I heard a voice that cried:
Fair knight, I see Sir Robert we were sent
[Pg 127]
To carry dead or living to the king.
So the knights came and bore him straight away
On their lance truncheons, such a batter'd thing,
His mother had not known him on that day,
But for his helm-crest, a gold lady fair
Wrought wonderfully.
The Prince.
RAPUNZEL 50
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Now let us go, love, down the winding stair,
With fingers intertwined: ay, feel my sword!
I wrought it long ago, with golden hair
Flowing about the hilts, because a word,
Sung by a minstrel old, had set me dreaming
Of a sweet bow'd down face with yellow hair;
Betwixt green leaves I used to see it gleaming,
A half smile on the lips, though lines of care
Had sunk the cheeks, and made the great eyes hollow;
What other work in all the world had I,
But through all turns of fate that face to follow?
But wars and business kept me there to die.
O child, I should have slain my brother, too,
My brother, Love, lain moaning in the grass,
[Pg 129] Had I not ridden out to look for you,
When I had watch'd the gilded courtiers pass
From the golden hall. But it is strange your name
Is not the same the minstrel sung of yore;
You call'd it Rapunzel, 'tis not the name.
See, love, the stems shine through the open door.
[Pg 130]
Morning in the woods.
Rapunzel.
RAPUNZEL 51
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Guendolen now speaks no word,
Hands fold round about the sword:
Now no more of Guendolen.
Only 'twixt the light and shade
Floating memories of my maid
Make me pray for Guendolen.
Guendolen.
King Sebald.
Guendolen! Guendolen!
One lock of hair!
Guendolen.
Gwendolen! Guendolen!
Lend me your hair!
Guendolen.
RAPUNZEL 52
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
[Pg 135]
[Pg 137]
[Pg 148]
Mahound to aid!
Why flee ye so like men dismay'd?
The Pagans, from without.
Nay, Launcelot,
With mere big words ye win us not.
Sir Launcelot.
[Pg 155]
OLD LOVE
YOU must be very old, Sir Giles,
I said; he said: Yea, very old!
Whereat the mournfullest of smiles
Creased his dry skin with many a fold.
They hammer'd out my basnet point
Into a round salade, he said,
The basnet being quite out of joint,
Natheless the salade rasps my head.
OLD LOVE 60
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
He gazed at the great fire awhile:
And you are getting old, Sir John;
(He said this with that cunning smile
That was most sad) we both wear on;
[Pg 156]
Knights come to court and look at me,
With eyebrows up; except my lord,
And my dear lady, none I see
That know the ways of my old sword.
(My lady! at that word no pang
Stopp'd all my blood). But tell me, John,
Is it quite true that Pagans hang
So thick about the east, that on
The eastern sea no Venice flag
Can fly unpaid for? True, I said,
And in such way the miscreants drag
Christ's cross upon the ground, I dread
That Constantine must fall this year.
Within my heart, these things are small;
This is not small, that things outwear
I thought were made for ever, yea, all,
All things go soon or late, I said.
I saw the duke in court next day;
Just as before, his grand great head
Above his gold robes dreaming lay,
[Pg 157]
Only his face was paler; there
I saw his duchess sit by him;
And she, she was changed more; her hair
Before my eyes that used to swim,
And make me dizzy with great bliss
Once, when I used to watch her sit,
Her hair is bright still, yet it is
As though some dust were thrown on it.
Her eyes are shallower, as though
Some grey glass were behind; her brow
And cheeks the straining bones show through,
Are not so good for kissing now.
Her lips are drier now she is
A great duke's wife these many years,
They will not shudder with a kiss
As once they did, being moist with tears.
Also her hands have lost that way
Of clinging that they used to have;
They look'd quite easy, as they lay
Upon the silken cushions brave
[Pg 158]
With broidery of the apples green
My Lord Duke bears upon his shield.
Her face, alas! that I have seen
Look fresher than an April field,
OLD LOVE 61
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
This is all gone now; gone also
Her tender walking; when she walks
She is most queenly I well know,
And she is fair still. As the stalks
Of faded summer-lilies are,
So is she grown now unto me
This spring-time, when the flowers star
The meadows, birds sing wonderfully.
I warrant once she used to cling
About his neck, and kiss'd him so,
And then his coming step would ring
Joy-bells for her; some time ago.
Ah! sometimes like an idle dream
That hinders true life overmuch,
Sometimes like a lost heaven, these seem.
This love is not so hard to smutch.
[Pg 159]
[Pg 163]
SHAMEFUL DEATH
THERE were four of us about that bed;
The mass-priest knelt at the side,
I and his mother stood at the head,
Over his feet lay the bride;
We were quite sure that he was dead,
Though his eyes were open wide.
He did not die in the night,
He did not die in the day,
But in the morning twilight
His spirit pass'd away,
When neither sun nor moon was bright,
SHAMEFUL DEATH 63
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
And the trees were merely grey.
He was not slain with the sword,
Knight's axe, or the knightly spear,
[Pg 164] Yet spoke he never a word
After he came in here;
I cut away the cord
From the neck of my brother dear.
He did not strike one blow,
For the recreants came behind,
In a place where the hornbeams grow,
A path right hard to find,
For the hornbeam boughs swing so,
That the twilight makes it blind.
They lighted a great torch then,
When his arms were pinion'd fast,
Sir John the knight of the Fen,
Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast,
With knights threescore and ten,
Hung brave Lord Hugh at last.
I am threescore and ten,
And my hair is all turn'd grey,
But I met Sir John of the Fen
Long ago on a summer day,
[Pg 165] And am glad to think of the moment when
I took his life away.
I am threescore and ten,
And my strength is mostly pass'd,
But long ago I and my men,
When the sky was overcast,
And the smoke roll'd over the reeds of the fen,
Slew Guy of the Dolorous Blast.
And now, knights all of you,
I pray you pray for Sir Hugh,
A good knight and a true,
And for Alice, his wife, pray too.
[Pg 166]
[Pg 169]
[Pg 174]
[Pg 178]
[Pg 182]
SPELL-BOUND
HOW weary is it none can tell,
How dismally the days go by!
I hear the tinkling of the bell,
I see the cross against the sky.
The year wears round to Autumn-tide,
Yet comes no reaper to the corn;
The golden land is like a bride
When first she knows herself forlorn;
She sits and weeps with all her hair
Laid downward over tender hands;
For stainèd silk she hath no care,
No care for broken ivory wands;
[Pg 183]
The silver cups beside her stand;
The golden stars on the blue roof
Yet glitter, though against her hand
His cold sword presses for a proof
He is not dead, but gone away.
How many hours did she wait
For me, I wonder? Till the day
SPELL-BOUND 70
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Had faded wholly, and the gate
Clanged to behind returning knights?
I wonder did she raise her head
And go away, fleeing the lights;
And lay the samite on her bed,
The wedding samite strewn with pearls:
Then sit with hands laid on her knees,
Shuddering at half-heard sound of girls
That chatter outside in the breeze?
I wonder did her poor heart throb
At distant tramp of coming knight?
How often did the choking sob
Raise up her head and lips? The light,
[Pg 184]
Did it come on her unawares,
And drag her sternly down before
People who loved her not? in prayers
Did she say one name and no more?
And once, all songs they ever sung,
All tales they ever told to me,
This only burden through them rung:
O golden love that waitest me!
The days pass on, pass on apace,
Sometimes I have a little rest
In fairest dreams, when on thy face
My lips lie, or thy hands are prest
About my forehead, and thy lips
Draw near and nearer to mine own;
But when the vision from me slips,
In colourless dawn I lie and moan,
And wander forth with fever'd blood,
That makes me start at little things,
The blackbird screaming from the wood,
The sudden whirr of pheasants' wings.
[Pg 185]
O dearest, scarcely seen by me!
But when that wild time had gone by,
And in these arms I folded thee,
Who ever thought those days could die?
Yet now I wait, and you wait too,
For what perchance may never come;
You think I have forgotten you,
That I grew tired and went home.
But what if some day as I stood
Against the wall with strainèd hands,
And turn'd my face toward the wood,
Away from all the golden lands;
And saw you come with tired feet,
And pale face thin and wan with care,
And stainèd raiment no more neat,
The white dust lying on your hair:
SPELL-BOUND 71
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Then I should say, I could not come;
This land was my wide prison, dear;
I could not choose but go; at home
There is a wizard whom I fear:
[Pg 186]
He bound me round with silken chains
I could not break; he set me here
Above the golden-waving plains,
Where never reaper cometh near.
And you have brought me my good sword,
Wherewith in happy days of old
I won you well from knight and lord;
My heart upswells and I grow bold.
But I shall die unless you stand,
Half lying now, you are so weak,
Within my arms, unless your hand
Pass to and fro across my cheek.
[Pg 187]
THE WIND
AH! no, no, it is nothing, surely nothing at all,
Only the wild-going wind round by the garden-wall,
For the dawn just now is breaking, the wind beginning to fall.
Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind?
Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind,
Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find.
So I will sit, and think and think of the days gone by,
Never moving my chair for fear the dogs should cry,
Making no noise at all while the flambeau burns awry.
[Pg 188]
For my chair is heavy and carved, and with sweeping green behind
It is hung, and the dragons thereon grin out in the gusts of the wind;
On its folds an orange lies, with a deep gash cut in the rind.
Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind?
Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind,
still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find.
If I move my chair it will scream, and the orange will roll out afar,
And the faint yellow juice ooze out like blood from a wizard's jar;
And the dogs will howl for those who went last month to the war.
Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind?
Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind,
Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find.
So I will sit and think of love that is over and past,
O, so long ago! Yes, I will be quiet at last:
Whether I like it or not, a grim half-slumber is cast
[Pg 189]
Over my worn old brains, that touches the roots of my heart,
And above my half-shut eyes, the blue roof 'gins to part,
THE WIND 72
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
And show the blue spring sky, till I am ready to start
From out of the green-hung chair; but something keeps me still,
And I fall in a dream that I walk'd with her on the side of a hill,
Dotted, for was it not spring? with tufts of the daffodil.
Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind?
Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind,
Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find.
And Margaret as she walk'd held a painted book in her hand;
Her finger kept the place; I caught her, we both did stand
Face to face, on the top of the highest hill in the land.
[Pg 190]
Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind?
Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind,
Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find.
I held to her long bare arms, but she shudder'd away from me,
While the flush went out of her face as her head fell back on a tree,
And a spasm caught her mouth, fearful for me to see;
And still I held to her arms till her shoulder touched my mail,
Weeping she totter'd forward, so glad that I should prevail,
And her hair went over my robe, like a gold flag over a sail.
Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind?
Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind,
Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find.
I kiss'd her hard by the ear, and she kiss'd me on the brow,
[Pg 191] And then lay down on the grass, where the mark on the moss is now,
And spread her arms out wide while I went down below.
Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind?
Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind,
Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find.
And then I walk'd for a space to and fro on the side of the hill,
Till I gather'd and held in my arms great sheaves of the daffodil,
And when I came again my Margaret lay there still.
I piled them high and high above her heaving breast,
How they were caught and held in her loose ungirded vest!
But one beneath her arm died, happy so to be prest!
Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind?
Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind,
Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find.
[Pg 192]
Again I turn'd my back and went away for an hour;
She said no word when I came again, so, flower by flower,
I counted the daffodils over, and cast them languidly lower.
Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind?
Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind,
Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find.
My dry hands shook and shook as the green gown show'd again,
Clear'd from the yellow flowers, and I grew hollow with pain,
And on to us both there fell from the sun-shower drops of rain.
Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind?
Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind,
Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find.
THE WIND 73
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Alas! alas! there was blood on the very quiet breast,
Blood lay in the many folds of the loose ungirded vest,
Blood lay upon her arm where the flower had been prest.
[Pg 193]
I shriek'd and leapt from my chair, and the orange roll'd out afar,
The faint yellow juice oozed out like blood from a wizard's jar;
And then in march'd the ghosts of those that had gone to the war.
I knew them by the arms that I was used to paint
Upon their long thin shields; but the colours were all grown faint,
And faint upon their banner was Olaf, king and saint.
Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind?
Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind,
Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find.
[Pg 194]
[Pg 199]
[Pg 202]
GOLDEN WINGS
MIDWAYS of a wallèd garden,
In the happy poplar land,
Did an ancient castle stand,
With an old knight for a warden.
Many scarlet bricks there were
In its walls, and old grey stone;
Over which red apples shone
At the right time of the year.
On the bricks the green moss grew.
Yellow lichen on the stone,
Over which red apples shone;
Little war that castle knew.
[Pg 203]
Deep green water fill'd the moat,
Each side had a red-brick lip,
Green and mossy with the drip
Of dew and rain; there was a boat
Of carven wood, with hangings green
About the stern; it was great bliss
For lovers to sit there and kiss
In the hot summer noons, not seen.
Across the moat the fresh west wind
In very little ripples went;
The way the heavy aspens bent
Towards it, was a thing to mind.
The painted drawbridge over it
Went up and down with gilded chains,
'Twas pleasant in the summer rains
Within the bridge-house there to sit.
There were five swans that ne'er did eat
The water-weeds, for ladies came
Each day, and young knights did the same,
And gave them cakes and bread for meat.
[Pg 204]
They had a house of painted wood,
A red roof gold-spiked over it,
Wherein upon their eggs to sit
Week after week; no drop of blood,
GOLDEN WINGS 77
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Drawn from men's bodies by sword-blows,
Came ever there, or any tear;
Most certainly from year to year
'Twas pleasant as a Provence rose.
The banners seem'd quite full of ease,
That over the turret-roofs hung down;
The battlements could get no frown
From the flower-moulded cornices.
Who walked in that garden there?
Miles and Giles and Isabeau,
Tall Jehane du Castel beau,
Alice of the golden hair,
Big Sir Gervaise, the good knight,
Fair Ellayne le Violet,
Mary, Constance fille de fay,
Many dames with footfall light.
[Pg 205]
Whosoever wander'd there,
Whether it be dame or knight,
Half of scarlet, half of white
Their raiment was; of roses fair
Each wore a garland on the head,
At Ladies' Gard the way was so:
Fair Jehane du Castel beau
Wore her wreath till it was dead.
Little joy she had of it,
Of the raiment white and red,
Or the garland on her head,
She had none with whom to sit
In the carven boat at noon;
None the more did Jehane weep,
She would only stand and keep
Saying: He will be here soon!
Many times in the long day
Miles and Giles and Gervaise passed,
Holding each some white hand fast,
Every time they heard her say:
[Pg 206]
Summer cometh to an end,
Undern cometh after noon;
Golden wings will be here soon,
What if I some token send?
Wherefore that night within the hall,
With open mouth and open eyes,
Like some one listening with surprise,
She sat before the sight of all.
Stoop'd down a little she sat there,
With neck stretch'd out and chin thrown up,
One hand around a golden cup;
And strangely with her fingers fair
GOLDEN WINGS 78
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
She beat some tune upon the gold;
The minstrels in the gallery
Sung: Arthur, who will never die,
In Avallon he groweth old.
And when the song was ended, she
Rose and caught up her gown and ran;
None stopp'd her eager face and wan
Of all that pleasant company.
[Pg 207]
Right so within her own chamber
Upon her bed she sat; and drew
Her breath in quick gasps; till she knew
That no man follow'd after her.
She took the garland from her head,
Loosed all her hair, and let it lie
Upon the coverlet; thereby
She laid the gown of white and red;
And she took off her scarlet shoon,
And bared her feet; still more and more
Her sweet face redden'd; evermore
She murmur'd: He will be here soon;
Truly he cannot fail to know
My tender body waits him here;
And if he knows, I have no fear
For poor Jehane du Castel beau.
She took a sword within her hand,
Whose hilts were silver, and she sung
Somehow like this, wild words that rung
A long way over the moonlit land:
[Pg 208]
Gold wings across the sea!
Grey light from tree to tree,
Gold hair beside my knee,
I pray thee come to me,
Gold wings!
The water slips,
The red-bill'd moorhen dips.
Sweet kisses on red lips;
Alas! the red rust grips,
And the blood-red dagger rips,
Yet, O knight, come to me!
Are not my blue eyes sweet?
The west wind from the wheat
Blows cold across my feet;
Is it not time to meet
Gold wings across the sea?
White swans on the green moat,
Small feathers left afloat
By the blue-painted boat;
Swift running of the stoat,
[Pg 209] Sweet gurgling note by note
GOLDEN WINGS 79
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Of sweet music.
O gold wings,
Listen how gold hair sings,
And the Ladies Castle rings,
Gold wings across the sea.
I sit on a purple bed,
Outside, the wall is red,
Thereby the apple hangs,
And the wasp, caught by the fangs,
Dies in the autumn night,
And the bat flits till light,
And the love-crazèd knight
Kisses the long wet grass:
The weary days pass,
Gold wings across the sea.
Gold wings across the sea!
Moonlight from tree to tree,
Sweet hair laid on my knee,
O, sweet knight, come to me.
[Pg 210]
Gold wings, the short night slips,
The white swan's long neck drips,
I pray thee kiss my lips,
Gold wings across the sea!
No answer through the moonlit night;
No answer in the cold grey dawn;
No answer when the shaven lawn
Grew green, and all the roses bright.
Her tired feet look'd cold and thin,
Her lips were twitch'd, and wretched tears,
Some, as she lay, roll'd past her ears,
Some fell from off her quivering chin.
Her long throat, stretched to its full length,
Rose up and fell right brokenly;
As though the unhappy heart was nigh
Striving to break with all its strength.
And when she slipp'd from off the bed,
Her cramp'd feet would not hold her; she
Sank down and crept on hand and knee,
On the window-sill she laid her head.
[Pg 211]
There, with crooked arm upon the sill,
She look'd out, muttering dismally:
There is no sail upon the sea,
No pennon on the empty hill.
I cannot stay here all alone,
Or meet their happy faces here,
And wretchedly I have no fear;
A little while, and I am gone.
Therewith she rose upon her feet,
And totter'd; cold and misery
GOLDEN WINGS 80
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Still made the deep sobs come, till she
At last stretch'd out her fingers sweet,
And caught the great sword in her hand;
And, stealing down the silent stair,
Barefooted in the morning air.
And only in her smock, did stand
Upright upon the green lawn grass;
And hope grew in her as she said:
I have thrown off the white and red,
And pray God it may come to pass
[Pg 212]
I meet him; if ten years go by
Before I meet him; if, indeed,
Meanwhile both soul and body bleed,
Yet there is end of misery,
And I have hope. He could not come,
But I can go to him and show
These new things I have got to know,
And make him speak, who has been dumb.
O Jehane! the red morning sun
Changed her white feet to glowing gold,
Upon her smock, on crease and fold,
Changed that to gold which had been dun.
O Miles, and Giles, and Isabeau,
Fair Ellayne le Violet,
Mary, Constance fille de fay!
Where is Jehane du Castel beau?
O big Gervaise ride apace!
Down to the hard yellow sand,
Where the water meets the land.
This is Jehane by her face.
[Pg 213]
Why has she a broken sword?
Mary! she is slain outright;
Verily a piteous sight;
Take her up without a word!
Giles and Miles and Gervaise there,
Ladies' Gard must meet the war;
Whatsoever knights these are,
Man the walls withouten fear!
Axes to the apple-trees,
Axes to the aspens tall!
Barriers without the wall
May be lightly made of these.
O poor shivering Isabeau;
Poor Ellayne le Violet,
Bent with fear! we miss to-day
Brave Jehane du Castel beau.
O poor Mary, weeping so!
Wretched Constance fille de fay!
Verily we miss to-day
GOLDEN WINGS 81
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Fair Jehane du Castel beau.
[Pg 214]
The apples now grow green and sour
Upon the mouldering castle-wall,
Before they ripen there they fall:
There are no banners on the tower,
The draggled swans most eagerly eat
The green weeds trailing in the moat;
Inside the rotting leaky boat
You see a slain man's stiffen'd feet.
[Pg 215]
[Pg 223]
[Pg 226]
WELLAND RIVER
FAIR Ellayne she walk'd by Welland river,
Across the lily lee:
O, gentle Sir Robert, ye are not kind
To stay so long at sea.
Over the marshland none can see
Your scarlet pennon fair;
O, leave the Easterlings alone,
Because of my golden hair.
The day when over Stamford bridge
That dear pennon I see
Go up toward the goodly street,
'Twill be a fair day for me.
[Pg 227]
O, let the bonny pennon bide
At Stamford, the good town,
And let the Easterlings go free,
And their ships go up and down.
For every day that passes by
I wax both pale and green,
From gold to gold of my girdle
There is an inch between.
I sew'd it up with scarlet silk
Last night upon my knee,
WELLAND RIVER 86
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
And my heart grew sad and sore to think
Thy face I'd never see.
I sew'd it up with scarlet silk,
As I lay upon my bed:
Sorrow! the man I'll never see
That had my maidenhead.
But as Ellayne sat on her window-seat
And comb'd her yellow hair,
She saw come over Stamford bridge
The scarlet pennon fair.
[Pg 228]
As Ellayne lay and sicken'd sore,
The gold shoes on her feet,
She saw Sir Robert and his men
Ride up the Stamford street.
He had a coat of fine red gold,
And a bascinet of steel;
Take note his goodly Collayne sword
Smote the spur upon his heel.
And by his side, on a grey jennet,
There rode a fair lady,
For every ruby Ellayne wore,
I count she carried three.
Say, was not Ellayne's gold hair fine,
That fell to her middle free?
But that lady's hair down in the street,
Fell lower than her knee.
Fair Ellayne's face, from sorrow and grief,
Was waxen pale and green:
That lady's face was goodly red,
She had but little tene.
[Pg 229]
But as he pass'd by her window
He grew a little wroth:
O, why does yon pale face look at me
From out the golden cloth?
It is some burd, the fair dame said,
That aye rode him beside,
Has come to see your bonny face
This merry summer-tide.
But Ellayne let a lily-flower
Light on his cap of steel:
O, I have gotten two hounds, fair knight,
The one has served me well;
But the other, just an hour agone,
Has come from over sea,
And all his fell is sleek and fine,
But little he knows of me.
Now, which shall I let go, fair knight,
And which shall bide with me?
O, lady, have no doubt to keep
WELLAND RIVER 87
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
The one that best loveth thee.
[Pg 230]
O, Robert, see how sick I am!
Ye do not so by me.
Lie still, fair love, have ye gotten harm
While I was on the sea?
Of one gift, Robert, that ye gave,
I sicken to the death,
I pray you nurse-tend me, my knight,
Whiles that I have my breath.
Six fathoms from the Stamford bridge
He left that dame to stand,
And whiles she wept, and whiles she cursed
That she ever had taken land.
He has kiss'd sweet Ellayne on the mouth,
And fair she fell asleep,
And long and long days after that
Sir Robert's house she did keep.
[Pg 231]
RIDING TOGETHER
FOR many, many days together
The wind blew steady from the East;
For many days hot grew the weather,
About the time of our Lady's Feast.
For many days we rode together,
Yet met we neither friend nor foe;
Hotter and clearer grew the weather,
Steadily did the East wind blow.
We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather,
Clear-cut, with shadows very black,
As freely we rode on together
With helms unlaced and bridles slack.
[Pg 232]
And often as we rode together,
We, looking down the green-bank'd stream,
Saw flowers in the sunny weather,
And saw the bubble-making bream.
And in the night lay down together,
And hung above our heads the rood,
Or watch'd night-long in the dewy weather,
The while the moon did watch the wood.
Our spears stood bright and thick together,
Straight out the banners stream'd behind,
As we gallop'd on in the sunny weather,
With faces turn'd towards the wind.
Down sank our threescore spears together,
As thick we saw the pagans ride;
RIDING TOGETHER 88
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
His eager face in the clear fresh weather,
Shone out that last time by my side.
Up the sweep of the bridge we dash'd together,
It rock'd to the crash of the meeting spears,
Down rain'd the buds of the dear spring weather,
The elm-tree flowers fell like tears.
[Pg 233]
There, as we roll'd and writhed together,
I threw my arms above my head,
For close by my side, in the lovely weather,
I saw him reel and fall back dead.
I and the slayer met together,
He waited the death-stroke there in his place,
With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather,
Gapingly mazed at my madden'd face.
Madly I fought as we fought together;
In vain: the little Christian band
The pagans drown'd, as in stormy weather,
The river drowns low-lying land.
They bound my blood-stain'd hands together,
They bound his corpse to nod by my side:
Then on we rode, in the bright March weather,
With clash of cymbals did we ride.
We ride no more, no more together;
My prison-bars are thick and strong,
I take no heed of any weather,
The sweet Saints grant I live not long.
[Pg 234]
[Pg 237]
[Pg 239]
NEAR AVALON
A SHIP with shields before the sun,
Six maidens round the mast,
A red-gold crown on every one,
A green gown on the last.
The fluttering green banners there
Are wrought with ladies' heads most fair,
And a portraiture of Guenevere
The middle of each sail doth bear.
A ship which sails before the wind,
And round the helm six knights,
Their heaumes are on, whereby, half blind,
They pass by many sights.
[Pg 240]
The tatter'd scarlet banners there,
Right soon will leave the spear-heads bare.
Those six knights sorrowfully bear,
In all their heaumes some yellow hair.
[Pg 241]
PRAISE OF MY LADY
MY lady seems of ivory
Forehead, straight nose, and cheeks that be
Hollow'd a little mournfully.
Beata mea Domina!
Her forehead, overshadow'd much
By bows of hair, has a wave such
As God was good to make for me.
Beata mea Domina!
NEAR AVALON 91
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Not greatly long my lady's hair,
Nor yet with yellow colour fair,
But thick and crispèd wonderfully:
Beata mea Domina!
[Pg 242]
Heavy to make the pale face sad,
And dark, but dead as though it had
Been forged by God most wonderfully
Beata mea Domina!
Of some strange metal, thread by thread,
To stand out from my lady's head,
Not moving much to tangle me.
Beata mea Domina!
Beneath her brows the lids fall slow.
The lashes a clear shadow throw
Where I would wish my lips to be.
Beata mea Domina!
Her great eyes, standing far apart,
Draw up some memory from her heart,
And gaze out very mournfully;
Beata mea Domina!
So beautiful and kind they are,
But most times looking out afar,
Waiting for something, not for me.
Beata mea Domina!
[Pg 243]
I wonder if the lashes long
Are those that do her bright eyes wrong,
For always half tears seem to be
Beata mea Domina!
Lurking below the underlid,
Darkening the place where they lie hid:
If they should rise and flow for me!
Beata mea Domina!
Her full lips being made to kiss,
Curl'd up and pensive each one is;
This makes me faint to stand and see.
Beata mea Domina!
Her lips are not contented now,
Because the hours pass so slow
Towards a sweet time: (pray for me),
Beata mea Domina!
Nay, hold thy peace! for who can tell?
But this at least I know full well,
Her lips are parted longingly,
Beata mea Domina!
[Pg 244]
So passionate and swift to move,
To pluck at any flying love,
That I grow faint to stand and see.
Beata mea Domina!
PRAISE OF MY LADY 92
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Yea! there beneath them is her chin,
So fine and round, it were a sin
To feel no weaker when I see
Beata mea Domina!
God's dealings; for with so much care
And troublous, faint lines wrought in there,
He finishes her face for me.
Beata mea Domina!
Of her long neck what shall I say?
What things about her body's sway,
Like a knight's pennon or slim tree
Beata mea Domina!
Set gently waving in the wind;
Or her long hands that I may find
On some day sweet to move o'er me?
Beata mea Domina!
[Pg 245]
God pity me though, if I miss'd
The telling, how along her wrist
The veins creep, dying languidly
Beata mea Domina!
Inside her tender palm and thin.
Now give me pardon, dear, wherein
My voice is weak and vexes thee.
Beata mea Domina!
All men that see her any time,
I charge you straightly in this rhyme,
What, and wherever you may be,
Beata mea Domina!
To kneel before her; as for me,
I choke and grow quite faint to see
My lady moving graciously.
Beata mea Domina!
[Pg 246]
SUMMER DAWN
PRAY but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips;
Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
The summer night waneth, the morning light slips,
Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars,
That are patiently waiting there for the dawn:
Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold
Waits to float through them along with the sun.
Far out in the meadows, above the young corn,
The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold
The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun;
They pray the long gloom through for daylight new born,
Round the lone house in the midst of the corn.
SUMMER DAWN 93
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, by William Morris
Speak but one word to me over the corn,
Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn.
[Pg 247]
IN PRISON
WEARILY, drearily,
Half the day long,
Flap the great banners
High over the stone;
Strangely and eerily
Sounds the wind's song,
Bending the banner-poles.
While, all alone,
Watching the loophole's spark,
Lie I, with life all dark,
Feet tether'd, hands fetter'd
Fast to the stone,
The grim walls, square letter'd
With prison'd men's groan.
[Pg 248]
Still strain the banner-poles
Through the wind's song,
Westward the banner rolls
Over my wrong.
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note, whilst archaic spellings have been
retained.
Many single- and double-quotation marks were omitted in the original publication. Logical corrections, made
from this text alone, would only compound any discrepancies and therefore such punctuation remains as
printed.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Defence of Guenevere and Other
Poems, by William Morris
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE ***
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